


Homestead

by NegligentTaco



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: Blood, Death, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegligentTaco/pseuds/NegligentTaco
Summary: 1987. Pagan Min and Mohan Ghale trek through the vast Kyrati forest in search of a Nationalist outpost to become one step closer to eliminating the "terrorists." Things do not go according to plan, though, and Pagan gets injured. Pagan is sent to Mohan's home to recover in the care of Mohan's loving wife Ishwari.





	1. Injured

  
_July 1987_  
The rain hadn’t stopped for three days. That amount of rain was typical for Kyrat during monsoon season, but nevertheless, it was inconvenient for the Royalists. Many of the soldiers had already came down with some form of cold, others in excruciating pain from the severe blisters on their feet due to their worn-down boots. The only exception was Pagan Min and his special army he’d brought with him from Hong Kong. They were well-equipped, well-dressed, and well-prepared. Pagan was young, but he’d spent months, and millions of dollars, preparing for his move to the Himalayan country.

He and Mohan Ghale, the head of the Royalist army, led the others through one of the many vast forests of Kyrat in search of a Nationalist outpost that was supposedly nearby. They managed to keep a steady pace for the most part, but many of Ghale’s soldiers were beginning to feel weak—physically and emotionally.

Stealth was difficult for much of the group. The Royalists struggled to stay quiet in between the sneezes, hacking coughs, and dragging of their sore feet as the ground sloshed beneath them.

“How are you not even the least bit sick,” Mohan whispered to Pagan amongst the sneezes as they advanced down a beaten path. The path, most likely from the Nationalists, indicated that the outpost was close by.

“Oh, I suppose it could be a variety of reasons-”

“Shh! Lower your voice.”

Pagan huffed and rolled his eyes. He loathed being shushed, but he complied.

“Traditional Chinese Medicine, for one. Have you ever heard of it? The immune system, or Wei Qi, can be boosted using TCM by eating such things as Astragalus root, Asian ginseng, and so forth. I also get acupuncture done quite often.”

Mohan looked at Pagan, acknowledging that he was listening, yet didn’t reply.

“Be careful for mud holes,” Mohan said. “They can sometimes be much deeper than they appear.”

“Whatever,” Pagan remarked as he rolled his eyes. He always felt like a child around Mohan. He mused whether Mohan treated his wife Ishwari the same way, who was even younger than Pagan.

As they continued to trek through the forest, they began up a slight hill.

Nearing the top of the hill, Mohan quickly drew his arm out in front of Pagan’s chest.

“Shh! Do you hear that?” Mohan crouched down and attempted to pull Pagan with him.

 _Yet again with the shushing_. He wasn’t even bloody speaking that time. Pagan crinkled his nose, refusing to bend down. He didn’t want to risk getting his pants any muddier than they already were. “Hear what? I can’t hear shite with all of this rain pouring down!”

Before anyone could react, a small group of Nationalists stormed out of the nearby bushes, firing their weapons. Mohan dropped to the ground onto his stomach and covered his head. Bodies fell in every direction. Amidst the pouring rain and gunfire, Pagan bellowed a short cry, followed by a string of Cantonese curses. He tumbled right into a puddle of thick mud, gripping his leg as he went down. More Cantonese words were exclaimed, this time much louder. The shooter was eradicated by Pagan’s army while Pagan wallowed in the slush, still cursing, as he desperately tried to pull himself out to no avail.

Mohan slowly brought his head up and looked around before he dared to stand back up. Pagan’s lieutenant grunted and nodded at Mohan, signaling the all-clear.

As Mohan stood, he noticed dead bodies lying all around. He sighed. He was grateful that most of the bodies were of the Nationalists, but he always mourned losing a fellow soldier. The two Royalists that he noticed right away were Ajmal, a young man in his early 20s, and Aadarsh, a man Mohan grew up with. Ajmal moaned and coughed. He had been shot in the stomach and was losing a great deal of blood. Mohan rushed over to the young man and applied pressure on the wound as he called for a medic. Bright red flooded between his fingers. One of the medics rushed over to give medical attention to Ajmal as another radioed for a truck to take him to the hospital. Mohan, knowing there was nothing more that he could do, stepped away to give the medics room to work. He said a quick prayer to Banashur for Ajmal’s health and soul.

Drawing his attention back to an injured Pagan who had finally been pulled from the mud hole, he called for Rajesh, a medic who had been hiding behind a fodder tree, shaking and scared.

Despite still sitting on the ground, Pagan refused. “No! No, just radio for my medic back at base. I can wait. It’s-” Pagan was briefly interrupted by a burst of pain. “It’s only a flesh wound, I believe,” he said through gritted teeth.

Mohan looked unsure. “Pagan, base is nearly half an hour from here. You shouldn’t wait that long. I assure you that Rajesh is highly qualified.”

Pagan furrowed his brow and panned his eyes slowly to Rajesh, who stared at the ground while discreetly picking his nose. Pagan rolled his eyes. “Call base,” he said to Mohan.

Mohan obliged and radioed to base camp who promptly sent off Pagan’s medic, accompanied by his loyal assistant Gary.

The haughty young man continued to sit on the ground, body slumped and head hung. He began to tremble.

“Are you crying,” Mohan asked.

Pagan’s shaking grew stronger, followed by the sound of heavy laughter. “I can’t fucking believe this,” Pagan exclaimed as the cackling persisted.

Mohan wore a confused expression on his face. “You can’t believe what?”

“The one time I don’t bring my medic along and the one time that I wear a nice pair of pants would be the time that I get shot in the fucking leg and fall in fucking monsoon mud!” Pagan wiped the tears from his eyes which only caused him to laugh harder as he realized his hands, and then face, were also covered in mud.

The stoic older man, unusually amused, attempted cover his laugh with a cough.

“Can you stand,” Mohan asked.

Pagan attempted to push himself up as his lieutenant rushed to his side to help. Mohan and the lieutenant grabbed Pagan’s arms and pulled him off the cold, hard ground. Pagan clenched his teeth in pain and attempted to collect himself.

“I can walk,” Pagan said after a couple deep breaths. “Let’s try to meet them half-way, at least. It’ll cut down on time and you men can get back to work.”  
Mohan furrowed his brow, obviously skeptical of the young man’s ambition.

“Are you sure, Pagan? It’s a bit of a walk-”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now come on. We’re losing daylight.”

Mohan agreed reluctantly and called for his men to head out as Pagan did the same for his. They left the remaining medics and soldiers who continued to attend to the wounded as they awaited transportation.

Pagan held to his wound the entire way, but moved with impressive haste. Within 10 minutes into the walk, the pain became almost unbearable. He fell to his knees, panting. Mohan and the lieutenant rushed over to the young man’s side.

“Perhaps I should wait here. It shouldn’t be too much longer.” Pagan winced as he watched the blood seep through his pants.

While waiting, Mohan rambled on about the importance of the Royalists standing up for monarchy and tradition and something about Banashur and Kyra… Pagan soon lost interest. He thanked whatever god or gods out there when the Jeep finally arrived so that he could escape from Mohan. He liked the man, at first, but he grew tired of him rather quickly. They disagreed on practically everything ranging from politics and religion to fashion— not to mention Pagan often found himself lusting after Mohan’s wife. Pagan never considered himself a jealous person; whenever Ishwari was involved, though, any remaining logic was eliminated and he couldn’t keep from hating the man who was fortunate enough to have her.

Mohan helped lift Pagan onto his feet once the Jeep arrived. “You may stay at my homestead. My wife, Ishwari, will take care of you.”

Pagan smiled. He thought of Ishwari. He liked Ishwari. Really liked Ishwari. Not wanting to appear overeager, though, he didn’t accept. “Oh, I’m fine, really!”

“No, I insist. Ishwari would be more than happy to help.”

A shadow fell over Pagan’s face. Despite his interest in Ishwari, he was annoyed that Mohan was volunteering his wife to take care of him without asking her first. He forced a smile. “Well, since you insist. That’s very kind of you, Mohan. Thank you.”

The lieutenant helped Pagan into the Jeep and then climbed in himself. As they commenced to drive off, Pagan huffed. “What took you so bloody long? There’s been a change of plans. Head to Mohan and Ishawri Ghale's home. You can patch me up there.”

“Yes sir,” the driver replied.


	2. Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pagan is on his way to the Ghale homestead where he will receive treatment for his bullet wound and begin to recuperate in the presence of the lovely Ishwari Ghale.

Ishwari was hanging clothes out to dry (a much lighter load of laundry since her husband had been away leading the Royalists), when she thought she heard a vehicle climbing the steep mountain that led to her home. She listened momentarily before going back to the laundry, knowing it would still be a while before anyone would arrive at the top.

She picked up the clothing, piece by piece, and pinned it to the line hanging just outside the house. She wore a white, flowy sundress that brought out her dark olive skin more than usual. Her long, black hair was put up in a loose bun, a few wavy strands hanging freely as they flowed along wherever the Himalayan Spring breeze took them.

Once she caught sight of the Jeep, she felt an overwhelming sense of dread at the thought of her husband returning. All they had done lately was fight. As the vehicle finally drew near, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, whispering a short prayer to Banashur that if it was Mohan, he would return in a much better mood than he left.

She made her way towards the Jeep just as it was coming to a halt. The driver climbed out and opened the back door to reveal a seemingly perturbed Pagan Min. Ishwari tried desperately to no avail to hold back the ridiculous smile that spread across her face. She felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief to see him, along with an immediate tinge of guilt.

“Pagan! Back so soon?”

Pagan winced and forced a smile. “I’m afraid so. Not under the best circumstances,” he said as he laughed.

Ishwari’s smile diminished at the reveal of Pagan’s wounded and bloody leg. She gasped. “What happened?”

“Just a flesh wound,” Pagan smiled through gritted teeth.

Helping him out of the Jeep, Ishwari grabbed him by one arm as his lieutenant handed him his crutches. She stretched her neck to search for Mohan but he was nowhere to be seen.

He took the crutches and used them for support as he nodded towards the house. “May we use your house? Mohan offered. I just need a little patching up.”

“Oh yes, of course. Go right on!” Ishwari watched Pagan limp towards the house as she drew her attention back to quickly finish up the laundry.

Gary and the lieutenant followed Pagan inside the home and cleared off the dining room table while the medic found a nearby stool to lay out his instruments.

Pagan unsuccessfully attempted to climb up onto the table by himself. He grunted and used every muscle in his body, but he simply could not muster the strength. Gary rushed to his side to provide his shoulder as leverage for Pagan to push himself up. As he positioned himself to lie on his back, the medic pulled out a knife to cut Pagan’s pants off.

“No! What do you think you’re doing? These are worth more than you could ever bloody imagine!”

The medic held the knife midair, donning a surprised look. “Sir… With all due respect, they’re already destroyed.”

Pagan looked down at the bloodstained, muddy pants and sighed in surrender. The medic was right. “Fine. Cut them. I’ll never get out of them myself in this state.”

“Yes sir.” The medic took the knife and carefully cut the pants with precision. The soldiers assisted the medic in removing the pants and belt as Pagan removed his shirt.

After she finished hanging the laundry up to dry, Ishwari came inside to check on Pagan. She blushed at the sight of him lying half-naked on her kitchen table. A sight that, admittedly, she would have enjoyed if it were under better, less bloody, circumstances.

The medic searched through his bag and found wipes to clean off Pagan’s leg. He rubbed them all around the wound, the white wipes soon turning a shade of pink. He then injected a local anesthetic to numb the area.

Ishwari stood in the background watching as she wringed her hands. She would offer to help, but so often her husband would tell her that she was not needed—that she would be of no help. She had learned it was best to just stay out of the way, no matter how badly she felt the urge to assist.

Once the area surrounding the wound was cleaned, the medic began to inspect the wound itself.

“I do not see any debris, Mr. Min, so I am just going to clean the wound out with some water, now. It does appear that you will need stitches.”

Pagan nodded and looked away. He wouldn’t consider himself squeamish—he simply preferred not to watch. He turned to Ishwari, “See? Just a flesh wound.”

“Actually, it’s a graze. There was no bullet, so it is not considered a flesh wound.”

Pagan looked at the medic then turned back to Ishwari and rolled his eyes.

After the medic flushed the wound out with some purified water, he proceeded to suture the wound. It was relatively small, only requiring a few stitches, which Pagan was thankful for.

Pagan noticed Ishwari standing by, staring at the floor. She appeared nervous. He cleared his throat, realizing how dry it was. His eyes fell on the nearby sink, then back to Ishwari.

“Ishwari, do you mind getting me a glass of water? I can’t even remember the last time I drank something.”

“Yes, of course,” she smiled. She could feel butterflies rise in her stomach just from the sound of her name on his lips. She wanted to kick herself: She was a married woman, after all. She hated that she even toyed with the idea of ever developing something more with Pagan. He was handsome, yes, but she made a vow at the tender age of 12 that she was to obey Mohan and stay true to him.

She walked around the table to a cabinet where she pulled out a clear glass. She filled it with the tap water and handed it to Pagan.

“Thank you, Ishwari.” He quickly downed the full glass of water.

Ishwari smiled warmly at him. “You’re welcome.”

The two fell silent. The only noise in the room was the sound of the medic finishing up the suturing of Pagan’s wound. Pagan wasn’t sure if it was the loss of blood or the sight of Ishwari, but he felt a bit weak and dizzy. He thought how stupid it was that he was feeling this way about someone—a married woman, at that.

They held one another’s gaze for a bit too long before Ishwari cleared her throat and looked away, her face flushing slightly.

Pagan attempted to break the awkward silence. Turning to the medic, he said, “If the fucker shot just a bit more to the right, he would have taken my dick off.”

The medic snickered. “You are right about that, Mr. Min. But thankfully your little friend may live another day.”

“’Little’?! I’ll have you know that from a tiny acorn grows a mighty oak tree,” Pagan chortled.

Ishwari cleared her throat, feeling extremely uncomfortable from the current conversation.

Pagan bit his top lip and apologized. “I’ve spent too much time around men lately where this kind of talk is the usual. It has been a while since I’ve spent time around a lady. Forgive me.”

Ishwari laughed. “Maybe it is just that I have not spent enough time around men. I’d give anything to be out there with you all, fighting the good fight.” Her smile faded into a frown as she looked down at the floor.

Ishwari had expressed her interest in fighting before with Pagan, and that Mohan greatly discouraged women fighting on the battlefields. This troubled Pagan, as he viewed women just as capable, and they certainly needed all the help they could get out there with defeating the Nationalists.

“I’m sorry, Ishwari. I know how much it means to you to fight for what you believe in. But on the bright side, at least you aren’t getting shot in the legs here in the safety of your own home!”

“Safety,” Ishwari scoffed. “That is for cowards. The last thing I want is a life of recluse.”

“All done!” The medic said, interrupting the two’s conversation. “I recommend you staying off of your leg for a few days to help reduce bleeding, and use an ice pack for the swelling.” The medic reached into his bag and pulled out a baggie of medicinal roots. “This will help you with the pain.”

“Thank you. Now if you bastards don’t mind helping me down off Ishwari’s lovely table.”

“Yes sir,” the men said in unison. The lieutenant grabbed the crutches as Gary and the medic carefully assisted Pagan off of the table. Pagan groaned and gritted his teeth. He accepted the crutches and adjusted himself.

Pagan turned to Ishwari. “This isn’t the most comfortable of furniture but it is quite sturdy,” he said as he knocked on the wood.

Ishwari giggled, “I can honestly say that is the first time my table has been used in that way.”

Pagan chuckled, “Leave it to me to have been your first.” The laugh caught in his throat, and he could feel himself blushing slightly. He hoped that her mind was not quite in the gutter like his and that she did not notice that Freudian slip. _Of course not_ , he thought, _Ishwari is practically a saint_.

He turned to his assistant, lieutenant, and medic. “Thank you, men, for your help.”  
The men nodded.

“Back to base camp now, Mr. Min?” Gary asked.

Pagan recalled what Mohan told him about him being welcome to stay at his home while Ishwari tended to him. While Pagan loved that thought, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up to Ishwari. Before he could make a decision, one was made for him.

“He can stay here! I really don’t mind. It gets quite lonely,” Ishwari said with a gentle smile.

“That’s very kind Ishwari, thank you. I’ll see you men in a few days. Gary, take a break, you deserve it. I will be fine here with Mrs. Ghale.” Pagan shook the hand of each man and sent them on their way.


	3. Massage

As the front door to the home closed, Pagan realized that was the first time he and Ishwari had ever been fully alone. They’d had a brief moment or two before when Mohan would leave the room, but he was never gone for very long. He turned to see Ishwari gathering a blanket and pillow from a small storage room in the hallway. “Come over and lay down on the sofa and rest, Pagan. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” “It has been an eventful day, to say the least.”

Pagan made his way over to the sofa and plopped down, letting the crutches fall to the floor beside him. He let out a sigh of relief and basked in the silence, his fingers absently fiddling with the soft blanket as he enjoyed its texture.

“It’s lovely just not being shot at every five seconds,” he remarked. His muscles were tense. He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, turning it side to side in hopes of relieving some of the pain.

Ishwari walked behind the couch and stood over Pagan. “Would you like a massage?”

Pagan gulped. The mere thought of Ishwari’s hands on his body excited him. “Oh God, yes I would. I can’t think of anything I could use more than that.”

Ishwari took her delicate hands and began to massage Pagan’s shoulders, loosening the knots in his muscles with every stroke. Pagan closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, moaning softly. Ishwari had gotten so close to him that he could feel her hot breath on his neck. He took a slow, deep breath, eyes shut tightly as she moved in slow, rhythmic motions, digging deeper into his muscles. He began to feel the familiar prickling sensation on the back of his neck and down his spine, shortly followed by the feeling of blood rushing between his legs, his pants becoming taut with an obvious erection. Pagan continued to be oblivious, his eyes still closed as he reveled in the euphoric sensation. He took another deep breath and let out a louder, longer moan.

Suddenly, he felt Ishwari stop and heard her clear her throat. He opened his eyes and turned to see her briskly walking out of the room and into the kitchen. He wore a confused look on his face until he realized. He looked down and much to his dismay, it was extremely obvious. His face burned. He stood up too quickly and felt his head spin. He must be dehydrated, he thought. After taking a moment to compose himself, he tucked his erection into his waistline and limped into the kitchen, ignoring the doctor’s orders to not use his leg.

“Ishwari, I am terribly sorry. It’s just—well, you’re extremely attractive and I simply got too into the massage. I know you’re a married woman and I respect you a great deal-”

“No, Pagan, it’s alright. I overstepped. It’s my fault. To be honest, I find you rather attractive, too, and I wanted an excuse to be close to you. But like you said, I am married. I’m sorry, I crossed a line. I should have known it would garner such a reaction from you. Men are men, that’s what Mohan always says.”

“Yeah, well, Mohan’s a cunt,” Pagan muttered.

Ishwari blinked. “Excuse me?”

Pagan huffed and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just that he and I don’t see eye-to-eye on many things. He’s terribly old-fashioned.”

“You can say that again,” she said bitterly.

“I mean, men aren’t the only ones who are sexual beings, and women shouldn’t be punished for men’s animalistic tendencies.”

The Tarun Matara nodded, silently agreeing. She couldn't help but smile. It was nice to finally have someone like-minded around. “How about we put this awkward moment behind us, yes? Still friends?”

Pagan smiled, “Still friends. I’m sorry for making you feel so uncomfortable in your own home, if I could control it I would, believe me.”

“I’d rather just drop the topic all together, if that’s alright with you.”

“Fine by me,” he grinned. “Would a hug be too weird after all that just happened?”

“It would be the least weird thing yet.” She opened her arms and hugged him.

They held one another close to a few seconds too long, neither wanting to let go.

She reluctantly left his embrace and patted him on the back. “Now let’s get you back to the couch and off of that leg. You’re completely ignoring the doctor’s orders!”

“I actually had something else in mind. How about a walk? I’d like some fresh air.”

Ishwari liked the sound of that. “If you think you’re up to it. I’ll grab your crutches.”


End file.
